Stripped
by 10462
Summary: Eames drags Arthur along to a strip-club to do some "Market Research" and Arthur gets a very unexpected surprise. Eventually when Ariadne reaches the age to take on legal dream-sharing, Arthur will always watch out for her.


Title: Stripped  
Rating: pg-13  
Pairings: Arthur/Ariadne,  
Spoilers: Set after Inception, but no real spoilers here.  
Warnings: Pervy Eames, Strip Clubs and some swearing.  
Wordcount: approx 1400

Summary: For **SCARLET_STARLET** and her lovely prompt that perhaps contains way to many spoilers to be posted here!  
Basically, Eames drags Arthur along to a strip-bar to do some "Market Research" and Arthur gets a very unexpected surprise.

The unlikely pair sauntered into the strip club at half past 4 in the afternoon.

"Don't you think it's a bit early in the afternoon to be visiting a house of such ill repute?" Arthur queried as he tugged the collar of his trench coat tighter around his neck, peering into the dimly lit crowd.

Eames as always looked relaxed and casual, salmon pink shirt gaping at the collar to reveal a patch of sandy brown hair and contrasting awfully against the dark grey trousers that bunched in all the wrong places.

Arthur approached the bar, grimacing as his sharp eyes took in the sticky mess on the counter and making a mental note not to get too close to anything. Eames seemed content to be completely oblivious and took charge of the ordering process, slipping a cheeky wink to the waitress who was barely recognizable under the thick layers of tacky makeup.

Eames slipped them both surreptitiously into the plush velvet booth nearest the stage, setting the two pints of lager on the wooden table between them. Arthur eyed the glass suspiciously,

"None of that usual stuff I hope." He completely avoided looking up at the girl gyrating against a rather uncomfortable looking pole, wearing far less than socially acceptable clothing.

Eames shook his head, "Only the best for you, darling. Happy Hour does wonderful things to my wallet."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Yes, and I'm sure you only come here for the cheap booze."

Eames chuckled, leaning back deep into the seat and taking in the sights and sounds of the sleazy venue; he was thoroughly enjoying the up-skirt view of a particularly perky blonde in the front row.

"Well the market research isn't bad here either, Arthur." Eames leered as his pupils dilated to a suspiciously inky black haze, "She's my next forge for sure."

Arthur rolled his eyes and barely resisted bashing his head against the table.

"Are you so sure there is nothing here that even begins to tempt you?" Eames wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at the thought as he produced a pornographic looking magazine from his briefcase. "There's a soft looking brunette coming up next, she looks more your type."

Arthur snatched the offending magazine from the almost drooling British man. 'Sketch Sexy Art Classes with Paisley McGee.' He contemplated how long it would take to kill himself with the plastic bar cutlery. "How could you possibly think this would be my type?" Arthur's voice dripped with incredulity.

The magazine displayed little more than a lewd description of the segment and a depiction of a shapely brunette half hidden by a stylized easel. The bar cutlery seemed his best option by far.

Excusing himself from the table, Arthur edged his way through the crowd slowly filling the room and headed towards the somewhat intimidating bartender to buy his round. Two more pints in hand, he carefully skirted his way around the crowd, skilfully dodging the bikini twins and giving the group of leering teens a wide berth.

As he approached the stage corner nearest their booth, Arthur realized that his path was blocked by the gorgeous brunette from the ad as she was waiting to go onstage.

He felt a warm blush spread across his face as he took in the subtle brown curls cascading over the perfect arch of her back, tapering down to the navy satin suspender belt hugging her hips, his eyes drawn to the straps leading down to silk stockings.

Arthur's breath hitched in his throat. Eames had been right; this beauty was so much his type, she must have practically been made to order.

His mouth went dry, suddenly unable to form words to politely pass and the weakness in his knees led him to believe the nearest table would be a much better option than going back to the drooling Eames.

Paisley's name was announced to the cheers and wolf whistles of the crowd and Arthur barely caught a glimpse of patent leather heels before his eyes were painfully focused on the beer in his hand.

Did he dare look? What if it ruined the perfect picture he was building in his mind? What if he actually wanted to someday hold a civilized conversation with her?

Arthur downed the first pint in one gulp, his vision blurring momentarily as he made up his mind. He'd never have a real chance with such a flawless creature; he may as well enjoy the visual while it lasted.

He heard a lewd whoop from Eames' table as she strutted around the easel, working the crowd into a frenzy as she removed the first few of barely any layers she was wearing, the kitten shape mask firmly remaining in place to obscure the top half of her face.

Arthur focused on her lips as he watched her dance, desperately aching to catch a glimpse of her identity. He felt his arousal stir as the lighting dimmed, and the music throbbed through his body in time with her twists and turns on the tall studio chair.

She turned again and looked straight into his eyes and his world went black.

The abrupt sound of paintbrushes falling to the ground startled him out of his reverie as the woman continued to stare at him, mouth agape. For the first time he noticed the intelligent spark behind the partially concealed brown eyes and the realisation hit him like a thousand ton weight crashing down.

Arthur was on his feet in seconds, knocking the last glass of lager on the floor as he ripped off his trench coat, disregarding his previous concerns that he would be recognized as he ran up on to the stage, bundling his coat around her to the dismayed cries of the audience.

He heard Eames' distant cries calling him all the bloody curses he knew, but nothing mattered to him in that moment except getting her out of there, out of the eyes of filthy men who were just mindlessly ogling the endless line of women onstage. Filth like him.

~*~*~

Arthur shut and bolted the dressing room door behind them and rushed to comfort the crumpled woman sobbing her eyes out on the couch. He gently pressed the corner of his thumb against the mask, pushing it up and over her head, revealing her tear-stained face as beautiful as he'd ever remembered.

"Fuck no, fuck no, fuck no," Ariadne whimpered into his coat, "I swear, I'm so sorry, god. I didn't know, I didn't want… I didn't want, I just, not like this."

Arthur wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest, muttering words of reassurance into her sweet scented brown locks.

"I didn't want this, you know." She blurted out, mid sob. "I just needed the money so bad. I tried, I really did, Arthur, I tried everything."

His heart broke at the desperation in her eyes. "Please don't cry Ariadne, there's nothing to be sorry for. If you ever need the money, need anything, you only need to ask."

She snuffled into his arms, "Its just so very un… so unprofessional. I'll never be able to get another decent job again."

Arthur's eyes crinkled at the corners, "How long until you turn 21, Ari?"

"2 weeks," she replied, slightly confused.

"You do realise, once you turn 21 you'll be at the top of the list for every dream share job we'll do … you're the best architect there is."

"But you never called!" She wailed into his jacket, tears pouring afresh. Arthur had to physically restrain himself from worrying about the mascara stains on his Armani coat.

"Inception wasn't strictly speaking legal, you know," he muttered as he swept his thumb across her cheek, brushing away the last few tears. "I haven't heard from Cobb since either. The only reason I caught up with Eames was to discuss planning for our next job. He finds this place the best to accurately piece together his female forgeries."

Ariadne stifled a snort, "He is just a gigantic perve you know. I can't believe I was so stupid. I really thought I'd messed it up bad out there."

Arthur just hugged her tighter, "I honestly can't wait to work with you again."

Ariadne closed her eyes against him, "Thankyou, Arthur." 

*PART 2*

"Happy Birthday," Arthur whispered as he slipped the plain white envelope into her handbag, placing a brief kiss into her hair before leaving through the back door. Arthur disappeared far more quietly than he had arrived, leaving Ariadne alone in an apartment that suddenly felt painfully empty.

Sometimes Arthur's visits felt like little more than a dream, brief checks-ins against her reality to make sure she's still doing ok. Two weeks ago her life had been frustratingly complicated, yet now it felt like she had been given a second chance to make things work.

•••

Last week she got a call from her landlord, informing her that the next 6 months had been prepaid on her lease. He didn't need to elaborate that a tall man with impeccable grooming had sauntered into their office at 10 minutes past 10 this morning, charming the receptionist into making the necessary arrangements. For Ariadne to know instantly that it was him.

Three days later Arthur had visited, bringing her a takeout bag of Thai food and a bottle of soda. She tried to ask about the lease payment, but Arthur was already muttering something about having a taxi waiting outside that would take him to the airport. Arthur had an extraction scheduled in 16 hours and only 30 minutes to get on his 14 hour flight to Singapore. Ariadne's mind blurred trying to comprehend why he was even here - and then he wasn't.

Once again her apartment was empty, the faint scent of Arthurs cologne lingering in the night air. She carefully unfolded the brown paper bag to reveal a single serve of Chicken Panang, Coconut Rice and a Diet Coke. Ariadne's stomach rumbled eagerly, and she realized that she had been so intent on studying that her last meal had been about 18 hours ago.

•••

Ariadne wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting from her 21st Birthday. However, after waking up to find a bottle of Moët & Chandon on her bedside table and a trail of rose petals leading into the kitchen, she had begun to piece together something rather spectacular.

What she eventually found in the kitchen was distinctly not what she had in mind. A lonely plate of still warm pancakes dusted in icing sugar was waiting on the bench and a post-it note trail lead from the bench top to the fridge where she discovered her favourite indulgent Iced Caramel Macchiato.

Though she had felt quite disappointed by Arthur's absence, she was buzzing at the anticipation of what else the day would bring.

•••

Arthur had stumbled back into her apartment at precisely 8:52pm that evening, just as she was about to leave to meet up with her friends. The right sleeve was torn from his suit and the remnants of his perfectly tailored shirt were wrapped around the gunshot wound on his upper arm as a sort of makeshift tourniquet. Ariadne turned to get the medicine kit from her bathroom, but was stopped by Arthur's insistent but gentle hand on her wrist.

"Wait, Ariadne, I don't have much time. I just wanted to give you this. The letter explains everything."

•••

Ariadne ended up being 20 minutes late to the bar where her friends were waiting, but no one minded. Ariadne glowed with a positive radiance and bought everyone a round of delightfully boozy cocktails. There was nothing really to mind.

If anyone noticed how Ariadne smiled a little brighter, laughed a little louder or floated back home on a cloud made of candy and rainbows, well they all just put it down to general Birthday happiness.

•••

When Ariadne sat down on the hard brown sofa to open the envelope, she really had no idea what to expect.

In between the crisp white folds were two tickets from Paris to Los Angeles, a letter in Arthur's perfect tight blue script and a typed list of job requirements.

Just as he had promised, Arthur had organized the perfect mission to accommodate Ariadne's entry into the world of dreamsharing as a legal profession. It wasn't a difficult job; the mark was the CEO for some faceless company, suspected for potential insurance fraud. Their job was working with the government to investigate further and present a report of their findings. It would undoubtedly be the easiest $15,000 Ariadne could ever make.

Arthur was acting as both point man and extractor, Ariadne would take on the role of Architect and they were using a premade compound favoured for its ability to provide sleep stable enough for one dream level, without the usual side effects.

The real reason Arthur had been so busy lately was to repay all the favours he'd called upon to make her dream a reality, she suspected that getting shot and stabbed at was little more than a successful day out of the office for some of Arthur's more difficult jobs.

•••

Ariadne met Arthur at the airport, handing him his ticket as they passed through the boarding gates. It had been a long time since she'd spent more than ten minutes in his company. Her recent memories of Arthur were fleeting moments that felt like stolen kisses, yet now they were buckling into their seats to spend the next ten and a half hours together.

She was nervous to say the least, what if they really had nothing in common after all? What if he changed his mind? This world with Arthur had become something that she never ever wanted to lose. Much like dream sharing had her hooked after a brief taste, so was the intoxicating nature of Arthur's lifestyle.

•••

They stepped off the plane together, hand in hand. All Ariadne's worries melting away, since Arthur had more than enough skill in casual conversation for the both of them.

Once outside the airport, Arthur hailed the first cab to pass and took charge of loading their bags into the hatch. They didn't have many bags but it didn't take long to fill the car with their belongings. Once inside, Arthur directed the driver to Chateau Marmont in West Hollywood. Ariadne giggled at the dollar signs that practically appeared in the drivers' eyes before promptly falling asleep on Arthurs shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her.

•••

Ariadne woke up feeling awfully disoriented. Gingerly peering out of one eye, she barely made out the vague shape of a bedside table. Her blurry vision focused on the vase of lilies resting on the chic asymmetric table and her eyes snapped open instantly.

This wasn't her apartment.

Peering around the room she noticed a plush red chair and softly draped curtains. She was still fully clothed and could see her shoes placed neatly by the window next to her travelling bag. The sheets were crisp and smelt like sunshine as she slumped back down into the warm bed.

However, upon hearing noises in the kitchen she decided that it was time to venture out and investigate what Arthur was up to. When she found him, he was elbows deep in flour with a smear of egg up his left cheek.

"Good Morning." She smiled cheerfully, trying her absolute hardest not to laugh.

"Its half past 2 in the afternoon, and I'm Hungry." Arthur declared.

"Have you been awake long?" Ariadne enquired.

"Only since 5am. But I can't get this waffle machine to work." Arthur sighed, well more rather huffed as he pointed to the trashcan where a mountain of charred remains and soggy wet batter had taken up residence.

"But I thought you were a great cook?" Ariadne blurted out with a tilt of her head. A blush swept over her face as she realised with sudden embarrassment how rude she may have sounded. "I mean, the pancakes and the..." She trailed off as she noticed the sheepish look on Arthurs face.

"I may have been smuggling Eames in with me to help cook a few times. I'm only really learning this stuff."

Ariadne's jaw dropped. "You mean, you and Eames both snuck into my house at an ungodly hour in the morning to cook me pancakes?"

"Well, yes, sortof. It was mostly my idea. Really. And Eames only watched you sleeping once. Before i shot him in the foot." He had that look on his face again. "I wasn't sure what else to do."

Arthur continued rambling and maybe if it had been anyone else, Ariadne would have been furious. But with Arthur looking so completely perplexed by basic kitchen equipment and awfully vulnerable with his shirtsleeves rolled up like that - it was terribly hard to maintain the slightest amount of irritation with him or his sleazy partner in crime.

Walking up to the flustered point man, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him for the first time.

Screw the rules about mixing business with pleasure, she knew enough about herself to know that this is what she wanted.

•••

The extraction ran seamlessly, with Mr. Angus spilling his secrets like an open book. Arthur was almost disappointed by the lack of security that their mark's subconscious was providing. It took little more than a few smooth words and a bit of coin to convince the bank staff to let them into their most heavily guarded vault.

If nothing else it was a warning of what not to do in regards to one's own personal mental security and in the days that followed Arthur would continue to teach Ariadne about the traps and tricks she could set up in her own mind to ensure potential extractors would have a much more difficult time getting their filthy paws on her intellectual property.

•••

Arthur cleaned up after the job, leaving no trace for Mr. Angus to find in the Penthouse where the extraction took place.

Ariadne opened the door of their hillside bungalow as she watched Arthur come back up the street, carrying his smart silver briefcase as though it were nothing more unusual than a case to protect a packed lunch and weekly planner.

As soon as he was over the threshold, she dragged him further inside and bolted the door.

"Ariadne, what's wrong? Did things go ugl..." Arthur's queries were cut off as she placed her soft lips over his and kissed him for the second time.

His hands wrapped around her waist, resting comfortably just above her hips as he pulled her into him. Their kisses grew more insistent as she stepped backwards, leading them into the living room.

Breaking away from his grip, Ariadne started, "I just want to say thank you for everything you've done for me, Arthur. I.." she stepped in closer again to rest her head against his chest. "I really appreciate it."

Smiling down at her, Arthur realises that she's swathed in a navy silk robe and his memory flashes back to the night he first found her, his pulse quickening as he turns his head to question, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"As long as you'll have me" she whispers earnestly.

Arthurs eyes crinkle at the corners as he holds back a smile, "I'm not letting you get away again" and he pulls her back into his arms, kissing her passionately.

"Your room or mine?" she asks mischievously as they break to catch their breath.

"Mines closer," he suggests, although the two rooms are both barely half a yard away from where they are standing in the lounge and Ariadne wastes no time in leading him in, her silk robe fluttering open as she struts.

•••

Arthur can't wipe the grin off his face.

He's dreamt of this moment countless times, replaying the vision in his mind when he's been alone.

And now it's real.

Ariadne reached her soft hands around his waist, nimble fingers working his shirt loose before carefully unbuttoning each button. She fumbles the last few as Arthur crushes her closer, running his hands beneath her silky robe and sliding the smooth fabric off over her shoulders.

He draws his hands back up around her, cupping her breasts with the sides of his hands and teasing her taught pink nipples with his thumbs. Ariadne's mouth forms the perfect little 'o' shape and he takes the opportunity to nip at her lower lip, waiting for her to grant him access so he can flick his tongue beneath her upper lip before he pushes her backwards against the bed.

Arthur slides his knee gently between her legs, and she looks up at him with those eyes and he melts into her, kissing, licking, nipping gently against every bit of exposed skin he finds. Ariadne works her nimble fingers into his hair as he tugs at her garter belt, pulling it down to the floor - soon to be followed by her silky underwear.

Kneeling at the side of the bed, Arthur pauses to slide off her shoes before he kisses up her stockinged leg and further over her stomach, trying all the while to restrain himself from ravishing her. He is a gentleman after all.

Ariadne pushes herself back further on the bed, dragging Arthur along with her, rolling around until she's comfortable kneeling atop his lap.

Hrmph. So much for being a gentleman.

Ariadne nuzzles his neck, her fingers working at the button on his trousers, feeling the heat of his arousal through her hands as she disregards the excess fabric.

Arthur feels a bit unsure about what to do with his hands at first, but then he settles for raking his fingers up her back as he feels the warmth of her breath brush over his cock and it feels so good.

She pokes her tongue out experimentally, wrapping the hot wetness slowly around him as she draws him in. Arthur takes a sharp intake of breath with each stroke, feeling once more like a giddy teenager as he brushes a strand of hair from across her eye.

Ariadne slithers back up to kiss him before whispering in his ear, "Please Arthur, I need you."

Arthur needs no more encouragement and in moments he's positioned himself against her, pushing down into her white hot heat, his mouth still kissing its way over her body as they find their own rhythm amongst the tangle of sheets.

Arthur's never heard a sound as beautiful as when she screams his name.

As they lay together in blissful silence, Ariadne felt Arthur's hand curl around hers and he kissed her so softly against eyes already growing heavy with sleep.

With Arthur, Ariadne slept better than she had ever slept alone

~ fin.~


End file.
